


Oedipal

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Alien Quadrilogy (Movies)
Genre: Dubiously Consensual Weird Alien Sex, Other, Overly long tongue, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Weird Alien Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: She wasn't quite human anymore.  It wasn't exactly an alien.  Both of them were all wrong.
Relationships: Ripley 8/Newborn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: Teratophilia Trade 2020





	Oedipal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fairleigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairleigh/gifts).



She let the fractured half of the rifle drop to the ground, the warning klaxons drowning out not only the clatter of the metal and plastic hitting the deck, but also her frustrated sigh. She wondered about it--the frustration. Not fear, not horror at the sight of dead people--was that because she had two lifetimes of seeing them? Or was it the little inhuman part of her, tiny bits of extraterrestrial killing machine that made her blood burn? That wasn't important. The important thing was that none of the dead soldiers she’d checked had an intact weapon on them.

It was smart.

They’d all been caught by the military—the _USM Auriga_ plowing into the early led to the _Betty_ getting caught by a patrol. All those soldiers knew was the _Auriga_ had been on a classified mission, and it had something to do with the crew of the _Betty_ and the hitchhiker.

She protested that the thing had to be killed, fast, but somehow the soldiers managed to subdue it. The captain of the patrol ship pieced together a story that was a mix of true and false. The _Auriga_ had been experimenting with bioweapons—something transhumanistic. Unless one of the Betty crew had talked about the aliens, she figured he had no idea about them, assuming that the scientists aboard the Auriga had created their test subjects out of whole cloth.

Test subjects.

Her and the hybrid.

She’d put up enough of a fight when they boarded to convince him she definitely wasn’t human… she wasn’t, not really. Those memories, working starships centuries ago, those were human. She was _more_ human than some of the _Auriga_ ’s experiments, but she was also part something else. And the Hybrid was also more human.

The Captain was definitely troubled when she told him he had to kill it. He almost seemed to agree that such a thing couldn’t be allowed to live. But he was convinced that she and the creature were government property—something he couldn’t just dispose of.

Now, a few hours later, she was wandering passageways, looking for weapons. The plan was the same as on the _Auriga_ —get to the _Betty_ , and get the Hell away. Kill the newborn.

It was close. She could _feel_ it in her bones. She… the original Ripley had met the creatures in three different incidents, and the feeling was distinct. The original Ripley had _no_ connection to the creatures, except by having the dumb luck of running into them. _She was one of them._

“Gruuh.. muuuuh…”

She jumped at the pitch-shifting growl as _it_ shoved its spindly frame throw a side passage too short for it, and looked at her. Skull-faced, with deepset eyes, it was sickening. It was a mix of human and alien, reminiscent of the failed experiments in the _Auriga_ lab, waxy yellow skin, loose over a frame. It looked _wrong_ … not human, but too human to neatly classify as one of those… Xenomorphs, as Gorman called them. Bugs, as Vasquez had.

She and it were more failed experiments. Trying to recreate the Xenomorphs by recreating Ripley led to her, not-human enough for Ripley, and it, not alien enough.

She stood and braced herself. She could run down the unfamiliar hallways jumping over corpses. It was awkward and ungainly, maybe not as fast as the sleek, wall crawling drones. But in the tight corridors, with no idea what doors were locked or not…

Her heart rate spiked as it approached, and she had to fight not to charge at it. That was insane. She was strong—far stronger than a normal human. But this thing had killed it’s mother, an Alien Queen that was too much Ripley for its own good in the worst ways possible within seconds of its birth.

“Muh…”

It was practically on top of her, what little passed for a nose twitching in it’s skull-like face as it stared at her. She looked to the side, heart racing, stomach twisting. It opened it’s jaws wide, wide enough to fit her head inside. And then a long, pink tongue ran across her face.

It thought she was its mother. Something that she had pushed from her mind. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this. How much of her was in that thing? She had no idea. But as it slimily licked her face, she took in a deep breath. She could use this somehow.

She ran a hand along it’s lower jaw, trying and failing to think how Ripley would treat her daughter. A daughter who was long dead before Ripley was long dead. This thing wasn’t like Amanda at all. She stroked the thing under its jaw, and it gurgled throatily.

She was practically on autopilot. The way the thing closed its eyes and _cooed_ let her know her efforts were working.

She was barely aware she was on her tiptoes, leaning in, until the thing’s tongue snaked into her mouth. “Mrrphg?”

It had her fast, as the tongue snaked its way down her throat. Sweat matted her hair and ran down her spine as the thing kissed her. She needed to struggle, to break the kiss—she was giddy from the tongue blocking her airway. Instead, she relaxed, lazily running her hands on either side of it’s pulpy, misshapen head, across it’s throat, down it’s chest.

It let out a whoop, suddenly pulling its head back and freeing her airway. Ripley gasped, and panted as she looked at the thing, which quickly focused it’s gaze back on her.

It put its massive hands on her shoulders and _pushed,_ forcing her to her knees. A bloody palm on the back of her head pulled her in close. Its yellow belly flushed red, and a long slit, running from the navel downward became apparent as its edges swelled. It rubbed her face against it, and a strange, musky scent hit her.

Something _stirred_ in her, a thrumming up and down her spine. Like when she felt the pained screams of the Queen, the pitiful desire for death from the other clones. Similar, but different. As the creature ran her face up and down against the slit, hot and wet, she stuck her tongue out. It let out a pleased squeal.

She kept at it, trying to ignore the heat running up and down her veins, making her face red and causing her struggles against the monster’s strength to weaken. It took her far too long to realize, by the burning wetness on her fingers, that she slid her right hand down the front of her pants. Fingers automatically rubbed, stroked, _penetrated_.

This was wrong. By any fucking metric this didn’t make sense. People didn’t do this, especially with their ‘mothers’. The aliens didn’t do this.

She and it weren’t quite people, weren’t quite aliens.

It felt right.

Ske kept at it, both with her tongue and fingers, as the creature chittered and whooped. She just ran all the way up to where the slit terminated when it, pulsed and pulled _open_ in a rush of fluid. Something long and weighty slid out of the opening to hit her in the face. Not hard, not painful, just unexpected enough to cause her to jerk back in surprise. She rubbed something wet and slimy from her face with the back of her left hand. Her right middle and ring fingers were still buried two knuckled deep inside of herself.

It was not surprising to just her. The creature let her go as it inspected the reddish _meat_ that protruded from its belly, pulsing. She looked up at it’s widened eyes as it inspected its penis for the first time, as it grew and stiffened and rose to be parallell to the ground.

It was _massive_ , long and ridged and curved. She looked at it, then at the thing’s face, as it shifted it’s gaze from it’s member to her. The glance it gave her told her it had figured out a use for its newfound appendage.

It took her far too long to get to her feet to back away, her legs buckling as she tried. Powerful hands caught her and pulled her close.

She tried to get it to calm down, batted it’s face, said “no” as commandingly as she could… which wasn’t very, when the thing’s tongue ran up the back of her neck and her voice quavered. A massive hand yanked at her top, ripping it off. She twisted in one monstrous paw as it held her shirt with its other, sniffing at it.

Then she was upside down, as it tugged away at her pants, tearing a massive hole in the seat and crotch. She barely had time to mutter an unconvincing protest before it buried it’s face against her, shoving it’s tongue in deep.

Like her stroking it, it somehow _knew_ all the right places to touch. It swirled and swished and twitched, and she panted and moaned. She cupped one of her breasts with one hand, and reached for its member with the other.

It pulsed rapidly as she moved her hand back and forth, feeling a dozen tiny bumps. Her hand tingled slightly as she moved it back and forth along the cock, not that _that_ was a feeling she was focusing on. Her teeth chattered as the hybrid’s tongue _wriggled_ against something _very sensitive_. She almost screamed in frustration when the tongue retracted from her.

She was swiftly repositioned, a massive hand wrapped around either of her thighs, feet dangling inches above the floor as something _broad_ pressed against her slit. She clenched her teeth as the maddening tingling hit her.

It yanked her down and backwards, driving itself to the hilt, and she _yowled._ She was given no time to get used to the _hugeness_ inside her as she was lifted, then pulled down, over and over again. It didn’t hurt—it was massive and _should have_ despite her wetness, but it didn’t. Every time it slammed all the way in hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs, she did her best to shift to accommodate _more_.

Its pace was relentless, and every nerve she had was on _fire_ in the best way possible. She screamed and went limp as wave after wave of sensation hit her. Her mind drew a blank trying to recall anything from a lifetime ago, anyone who managed to do _this_ to her, make her cum like _this._ She couldn’t

And it didn’t stop.

A hand left her leg and coiled around her waist, pressing her against it’s slimy hide. She saw its head in her periphery, tongue lolling out as it chittered. Raising a hand to stroke its jaw and turning her head took more effort than she thought she could manage.

She kissed and nipped at it, which prompted it to pick up the pace. It dropped to its knees, pushed her against the cold metal of the deck, and continued to slam into her. Her moans were drowned out by it’s panting, huffing shrieks, but her screams echoed.

Finally two paws slammed hard enough into the deck do dent the metal, and it _howled_ loud enough to reverberate inside her head. It swelled up inside her, and slick fullness kept pouring into her. She panted and gasped and shrieked along with it.

The thing fell back from her, and the feeling of _emptiness_ as it left her with a sick _pop_ caused her to shudder.

It took an eternity to roll over, looking at the creature, as it gasped, sitting legs splayed open, resting bonelessly against the bulkhead.

This wasn’t _right_.

Neither of them were right, either. She was a dead woman from centuries ago, or a reasonable facsimile of one. But intermixed with that were a confused bundle of instincts, things that were borrowed from a murderous alien parasitoid. It was—something the aliens got from her. By either standard, neither one of them was right.

“Muh…” It was still panting, trying to force fractured words out of its mouth. Crawling over to it was a herculean task.

When It curled those arms around her, it was worth it.

* * *

Johner pounded the door panel, letting out an echoing “Fuck!”

That was the magic word, as the door slid open. DiStephano took point, guns raised, head on a swivel. When the rest of the fucking army came and arrested them all, the soldier had stood by the _Betty_ crew. Earned him a cell. In his shoes, Johner might’ve sold them all out, claimed he was a hostage, whatever. DiStephano admitted to aiding the pirates and even shooting Dr. Wren.

Stupid, but if nothing else Johner appreciated DiStephano throwing in his lot with the criminals. It meant he wasn’t on this goddamn while goose chase alone. After dragging Vriess’s ass to the Betty and locking that door, the plan was to self-destruct this ship to get rid of the bug, or bugs, whatever. Call could do that on her lonesome.

But she _insisted_ they find Ripley.

DiStephano was noble and stupid enough to immediately hop to it, and no amount of logical argument of “Fuck her, let’s get off this goddamn ship” was going to convince Call. The one good thing was whatever had gotten loose had thinned out most of the soldiers. DiStephano managed to talk one or two more down—emphasizing how fucked these experiments were—better to just abandon ship than try to stop them from scuttling it.

Others hadn’t been so easily convinced—Johner was low on ammo.

Too low to be fighting the bugs. But that wasn’t convincing Call. So they were searching. Those fucking screams? Call had to hear them over the intercom—she said the cameras were down, but voices carried. And that was definitely Ripley’s scream… or a woman who sounded like Ripley, or a guy who screamed like a girl who sounded like Ripley.

Either way it was enough to conclusively prove they should just blow the ship and go home.

His reasoned arguments were ignored.

All of a sudden, something caught his foot and the bulkhead was rushing up to meet his face. “Fuck!”

He twisted, looked down, and grimaced at the severed arm he fell over. DiStephano walked over and offered a hand. He grinned, like _now_ was a time for humor. “Told you to watch your step.”

“When the fuck did you do that?”

“While you were bitching about finding Ripley.” Call’s voice over the intercom.

“Yeah well…” Johner began, and then was _slack jawed_. The grin disappeared too slowly from DiStephano’s stupid fucking face, and he only wheeled around when Johner scrambled for his dropped gun.

That thing was _not_ a bug. Or it was. It was a fleshy, squishy bug—how the fuck had they made the things uglier?

That question went unanswered as DiStephano went sailing overhead, landing in a groaning heap, and then a massive hand coiled around his neck. He pressed his gun against the thing’s chest.

“Stop!” A voice that was unmistakably Ripley’s called out. His eyes turned to the side, and the thing pivoted to look in that direction.

What the fuck?!

It came out as gurgles, but what he meant to say was “Why the _fuck_ are you naked?”

She marched over, and shoved the barrel of his gun so it wasn’t pointing at the fucking monster strangling him. “No.”

The creature’s hand opened, and he fell to the deck, gasping. He looked up at Ripley, naked and slimy, then the thing, leaning in close.

“What the fuck, man?!” DiStephano took the words out of his mouth. The soldier was leaning against a bulkhead looking for his gun.

She shushed the thing as she pet it like a dog, and then leaned in. “They aren’t going to hurt you… and you aren’t going to hurt them. Got it?”

Then she looked down at Johner, and repeated “Got it?”

“What’s going on down there? Johner? Ripley? Someone…”

Call kept it up while Johner stumbled to his feet and then against the nearest intercom. He shot a glance at Ripley and the thing, as his mind did the math and figured they were gearing up for round two, or three, or… fifty. “Fucking Christ Call, come down to see for yourself.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hm... _Alien Resurrection_ is a weird film, but there's a lot of very interesting imagery throughout with it. The newborn, and the Ripley clone's attachment to it, is strange and very interesting to me, so it was fun to try my hand at this. I hope I did your request justice!


End file.
